


The Romantic

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Angelus. A character study.





	The Romantic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChasingDemons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingDemons/gifts).



> This is for **chasingdemons**.
> 
> Well, this IS Angelus we're talking about so... non-con galore! This being February, I thought I'd focus on the romantic side of his character. Heh heh.
> 
> And look! It got a nomination!  
> 

Angelus had always been a romantic. He hadn’t been as a live man, but immortality gave him the time to appreciate the finer things, and the power to rip the head off any man who disparaged his interest in lace and flowers.

Darla was an education in lace, and though she played the cynic, she lived for romance. He plied her with jewels and gowns and virgins all wrapped up in ribbons. From the very beginning, he reveled in the juxtaposition of innocence, art, and depravity. Each made the others so much sweeter by comparison. And though Darla was his senior in age and experience, he took great pride in surprising her with his ideas. “Dear boy,” she’d gasp, parting lips and thighs with pleasure.

And then, Drusilla – had any suitor ever been more patient, more thoughtful than he was with her? He spent every waking moment dreaming up new torments and tortures for her, breaking her mind one delicate ideal at a time, like the pretty little bones of her sister’s fingers.

So, where, exactly, did Spike get off telling him he was “unromantic”?

“As a broken socket wrench,” he added, leaning back in his wheelchair like it was a royal throne. “Not a romantic bone in your thick, Neanderthal body.”

It shouldn’t have bothered Angelus, but he could tell the annoying brat actually believed what he was saying. Angelus grabbed hold of the chair’s arm-rests and enjoyed the flicker of fright and helplessness that passed over Spike’s features before he schooled them to indifference. He let the chair roll a bit under his weight as he leaned close. “You want me to be more romantic, Willy my boy?” His lips brushed Spike’s cheek despite the younger vampire struggling to push himself back. “I admit, I could try harder.”

“Not with ME, you arse. Get off!”

The chair tipped dangerously. He could scent the humiliation pouring off Spike. How he’d hate to be dumped on the ground, even more obviously less of a complete man. Angelus opened his mouth and breathed deep over Spike’s exposed neck before licking gently.

“Ugh. Yes, nothing more romantic than your cold wet tongue. What are you, a poodle?”

“Don’t worry, William. I’ll take it nice and slow and treat you right.” Angelus chuckled and pushed the chair in front of him all the way to his bedroom.

Of course Spike tried to escape, and it spoiled the moment somewhat to have to scoop him up off the floor and carry him, all flailing and squirming, back to the bed, but Angelus meant what he’d said about taking his time and rather than knocking the idiot out so he could have his fun, he put up with the struggles while he tied him down with the good silk ropes you usually reserved for the ladies.

Silk was very romantic. Angelus had silk sheets on the bed, and let the tail of his silk shirt ghost over Spike’s straining form as he cut his clothes away. The ropes narrowed against his wrists.

Spike stilled when he realized there was no hope of escape. He stared pointedly at the ceiling, jaw tight. That wasn’t very romantic, so Angelus tied a royal blue scarf over his eyes.

“Bastard,” Spike growled between clenched teeth.

“Now, Willy!” Angelus stroked his side, kissing down his torso. “I won’t do anything to hurt you.” He played with Spike’s limp cock, giving it a little suckle and then piercing the fleshy tip with a fang. The sluggish vampire blood welled like pre-come and he smeared it around with his tongue. He licked the blood from his lips and grinned. “At least, it’s not like you’ll feel it.”

Tears bled through the silk while Angelus rubbed himself against Spike’s useless legs. He hoped the fabric stained properly so he could hang it on the wall – just out of Spike’s reach – as a memento.

Angelus took his time prepping Spike, since he wouldn’t feel it anyway, and gathered his limp legs up over his shoulders. Spike still gasped when penetrated, still straightened and arched, though he didn’t clench like he used to. No internal fight. Angelus set up a lazy rhythm, taking his time, luxuriating in the slow pull and push. It didn’t take long for Spike to get bored with lying there and renew his struggles. His abdomen clenched and twisted. It wasn’t the usual bucking and thrashing since his lower half couldn’t join in. It felt languid, like waves caressing Angelus. He groaned, long and low, and pressed his body down the length of Spike’s. “That’s it, baby. That’s so good.”

“Fucker,” Spike said.

“Always sweet talking.” Angelus tried to capture his lips, but Spike’s head was fully operational and whipped back and forth. So Angelus just latched onto the long side of his neck and dug his fangs in. Anchored by teeth and fists, he pumped away with abandon, chasing his own pleasure.

He came hard, clean, and perfectly. His hips shuddered to a stop and he let his weight fall on the form below him.

Spike squirmed. “Get off, fat arse.”

Angelus retracted his fangs, licking the wound. He snuggled his head down in the crook of Spike’s shoulder. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Yeah. As romantic as a car-jacking. Ta ever so.”

It was amazing how Spike could set his teeth clenching when he’d just been boneless with satiety. Annoyed, Angelus pulled himself off the comfortable bed and went to wash, leaving Spike to curse him.

***

With Jenny, it was a double romance – holding her close so she could feel how hard he was when he snapped her neck, then arranging her just so for Giles. He knew he’d made the right impact when the man came to him, mad with grief and anger.

“A gentle rub of the thumbs under the jaw,” Angelus bragged, kicking back to clean his torture tools. “Tilt her head back for a kiss before snapping her neck. Ah, it was poetry.”

“You wouldn’t know poetry if it cracked your thick skull,” Spike muttered, not looking up from re-applying his nail polish.

Angelus knew he shouldn’t let it get to him. Indifference was the best revenge against Spike. He sighed. “Now watch how intimate I can be with dear Rupert Giles.” He smiled wolfishly, already imagining the feel of stubble against the pads of his thumbs.

***

It was hard to find time for romance, trapped in a cage, but he owed his friends so much for setting him free. Especially Wesley. All the righteous rage Angel had felt over his betrayal! Angelus didn’t mind a little betrayal – he expected it. Wesley was breaking down and it was delicious. Angelus only wished he could gloat to his souled doppelganger. Look what you’ve done, Angel. Better than I could have. Just a few more nudges and touches, and Wesley would crack – a sharp fissure through his psyche that would never heal. Another Drusilla.

At first, all he could do is taunt and talk. Whisper sweet nothings to his beloved. “It must hurt, knowing you destroyed yourself in the eyes of your mentor for a faked prophecy. Never mind the innocent baby you sent to hell. How’s that feel, Wes?”

Wesley regarded him with a steady gaze over his crossbow, not reacting, but Angelus knew he’d been heard. He wrapped his hands lovingly around the bars and brought his hips up snug. “I’m proud of you, Wes. Wish I could show you just how much I care.”

Wesley watched him without a twitch while he massaged his erection through his pants and then slowly unzipped. Angelus took his cock in hand and gave it a long, slow pump. He pushed his fly open wide and cupped his balls, making sure everything was clearly on display. “He knew, Wes. In case you’re wondering. Angel knew how you felt about him. The soul just makes him socially paralyzed. Pathetic, really, when he could have had you on your knees at any time.”

The crossbow bolt hit him in the leg. Angelus laughed as Wesley turned and walked out.

***

There wasn’t much time for romance between stalking The Beast and avoiding Angel Investigations, but Angelus made the effort to leave a box of chocolates on Wesley’s bed one night, a single rose the next, and a portrait of him sleeping. Classics, really.

He was planning so much, but time ran out, and the soul returned.

Angel couldn’t look Wesley in the eyes for weeks, and when he did, he wished he hadn’t.

***

Lindsey looked beautiful in candlelight. Angelus had always expected he would. His hair and his eyes picked up the light while the shadows dipped deliciously over his form. Angelus loved the way his stomach tightened that extra inch, trying to draw away from the dripping wax, and the way his cheeks swelled around the gag as he tried to force it out.

“Sh, darling, don’t say anything, you’ll spoil the mood.” Angelus peeled back a section of hardened wax and licked the reddened skin underneath. With Lindsey, it was all about prolonging the anticipation. He could make resignation a habit. So you had to keep him present, keep him struggling, ‘accidentally’ loosen the bonds just enough that he thought he might get free.

Angelus checked the ropes again and brushed his finger along Lindsey’s abraded wrist. “I can see you’re wondering what happened, how I slipped my leash.” He couldn’t help a tight, bitter note in his voice on the word “leash”. He tugged the rope, pulling a high-pitched howl from Lindsey. With a sigh he straddled Lindsey’s hips. “See, a few years ago, an actress introduced me to the most wonderful drug. Simulated pure happiness. Can you believe it? Better living through chemistry! And it’s all for you, sweetheart.” Angelus ground his hips down and laughed with delight at feeling Lindsey was half-hard.

A deep blush darkened Lindsey’s face. Angelus could almost smell the blood through the skin. He licked the sweat from Lindsey’s cheek and inhaled deep. “Mmm. Now, normally, Angel would be too uptight to indulge, but you, Lindsey? You bring out the romantic in me.” He rolled his hips slowly, tracing back and forth across Lindsey’s cock, teasing him to hardness. Lindsey increased his struggles, breathing hard, hissing breaths through the gag and clenched teeth. He jerked hard enough that the ropes groaned and the bed shivered.

“Yee-haw! Ride ‘em cowboy!” Angelus mocked, leaning back and gripping his dick.

With two more bucks and a hard wrench that left fresh blood flowing from his wrists, Lindsey stilled, face turned as far to the side as he could, chest heaving.

Angelus grabbed his hair to center his head again. “Nothing to say to me, sweetheart? After I prepared all of this just for you?”

Lindsey glared pure hate at him.

Angelus chuckled and stroked his cheek. “Of course, you know the only reason I’d take this gag off would be to make use of what’s under it.” He casually smacked Lindsey once, then jerked his head aside so he could snap the clasp on the gag. Lindsey coughed and gagged as he pulled it out. His lips were swollen nicely, and a cut in the fattest part of the lower lip just begged for Angelus’ attention. He leaned down and nipped at it. When Lindsey tore his face away, it did more damage to him than to Angelus.

Angelus scooted forward, his hips over Lindsey’s chest, now, and unfastened his pants.

Lindsey coughed and spoke in a rough voice, “Go ahead. I’ll bite your dick clean off.”

“See, that’s what I love. It’s that spice that keeps me coming back.”

Angelus grabbed Lindsey’s jaw, fingers digging hard into the joint, and guided his cock toward those plump, bleeding lips.

Lindsey thrashed, to the point of nearly popping his jaw out against Angelus’ fingers, and Angelus got only a few moments sensation of wetness before he felt teeth nearly cut home.

Angelus slapped his face hard again. Then he edged back and spoke in mocking sympathy, “You’re going to regret not giving me some spit to ease the way, Linds. I’m only thinking about you.”

“You piece of shit. I don’t believe for one minute this is about you not having your soul. You’re just a sick fuck through and through. Someone’s going to catch on to you, eventually, someone will… aaah!”

Angelus, having unceremoniously hoisted Lindsey’s hips up in the air, stretching his arms taut against their bindings, tutted. “What was that, Linds? You know I care deeply what you have to say. Don’t just leave off like that.”

“You son of a … AH!”

Angelus thrust in hard and dry. He grunted at the effort and the burn, but it was a sensation he didn’t mind. He liked knowing that he was tearing his way, irreparably changing something deep inside of the man. “See, there you go again.” He pulled out slightly and worked his hips side-to-side to help the blood start flowing before he began a punishing rhythm.

Lindsey’s teeth where clenched hard against the pain and the salt of tears added that extra little note to the smell of dispair, pain, and blood. Angelus licked his lips. “Damn, Linds, you’re going to make me come too soon. Your ass just loves me.”

But all too soon it was clear that Lindsey was retreating inside himself. Angelus huffed in annoyance – he was close to coming! But, really, there were more important things. He pulled out roughly and threw Lindsey’s hips down. He gave him a few taps on the cheek again and got nothing. So he straddled his chest, grabbed a fistful of hair, and guided his blood-streaked cock back toward those lips. Ah, paydirt! Lindsey tore his own hair twisting away. Angelus laughed and pumped himself hard, humping forward and catching Lindsey on the lip every other stroke until he spilled all over his face.

Angelus rubbed come and blood around Lindsey’s nose and mouth, shoved his fingers in and then back out when Lindsey bit down.

With a sigh Angelus stood up. “That cleared the head.” He patted Lindsey’s shoulder. “I’m going to get a drink, and then we’ll start over.”

***

When Spike found out, he was as annoyingly self-righteous as ever. “You just killed him? We’re facing impossible odds, we need every able-bodied man we can scrounge and you go and kill Lindsey?”

Angel turned his back on the theatrical gesturing and sputtering. “I didn’t do it. I had Lorne do it.”

“You had…?” Spike threw up his hands. “I give up. Bravo, Angel. Great move that was. Didn’t even take him out to dinner first?”

Angel looked down sourly into his whisky. “Angelus was the romantic. Not me.”


End file.
